You are currently browsing the daily archive for April 6, 2013.

Her Love

I watch your heart break from a distance
And there is nothing I can do.

Not.

One.

Thing.

When you were small,
I could cuddle you
And make you giggle
And kiss your tears away
And you would be all better.

Now, my touch at the sight of your tears
Makes you angry,
And the choices you never made
Are making you hurt.

It’s a pain we all go through.
You’ve seen it near break me.
And when it happens to you,
You think no one can know how you feel.

But we do.
We all do.

That doesn’t make it any easier.
I wish it did.

I so wish
I could.

The sparkling green has yet to appear, but this Japanese plum bush is giving a broad hint that we won’t have to wait long.

Flowering plum bush

Littleton, Colorado.

Quote of the day: “I have decided to be happy because it is good for my health.”  —  Voltaire

Daily gratitudes:
The Captain Picard lookalike manhandling a fajita at Corazon yesterday
Spontaneous opera attendance with MKL
Seeing Don Giovanni for the first time
The Rockies winning at home on Opening Day
Seeing my Lower Realm animals in my dreams

The Banker’s Lamp

My emerald shade has cast a puzzling ivory glow across decades of ledgers
As gnarled hands carefully ink figures that signify a man’s fate
Across slender columns on a lined page.

I have watched fortunes won and lost on the turn of a track,
The roll of dice,
A gamble of land,
All from a distance, of course.
I only see the outcome
Never the game.

I have watched sums carefully
Set aside
So carefully
Saved for that day when
It is time to spend
Rather than to earn
And seen death take the reins in hand,
Proving caution futile.

I have watched as all wealth fled
In a trickle and in a rush
Wasted upon killing habits
Or squandered upon reckless whims.

I have seen it all,
Decades and decades of it all
And I remain unchanged
If slightly dusty
Waiting each day for those hands
To pull a brass chain
So I may aid a pair of watery blue eyes
Behind wire spectacles
Until those hands again
Pull the chain.

 

Note: This is Day 1 because I got started late, and so, I’m catching up.

Mezzo

The notes trickle down the hollow between her breasts,
Cascading as a river of mist across the boards,
Spilling over the footlights,
Curling into the tones ascending from the orchestra,
Swelling above the pit, over the brass rail,
Rolling in waves across shrouded, enraptured faces,
Slipping upwards to the arcs of the ceiling,
Licking the air,
Consuming breath,
Mingling
Rising
Imploding
Falling
Fading
Echoing
Stilling.

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